The Captcha

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A modern fable in verse. Wise Monkey Wrought scroll N.006, "The Captcha." The form was complete. One step remained. The site wished to confirm the applicant was human. It asked him to find all the images containing a bus. The form was done, the button near, when at the last there rose a wall. The site, in tones polite but clear, required proof of being at all. The proof of personhood, it seemed, was nine grey squares of foreign road, where buses lurked, or could be dreamed, in fog a scanner had bestowed. The first attempt was ruled unsound. A second grid arrived, on cue. Twice more the applicant was found to be, on balance, not quite true. The fourth grid passed him, more or less. The green tick glowed. The form went through. He sat back, pleased with the success of proving what he hoped was true. He was certified human on the fourth attempt. His passport stamped it without looking up.